


Challenger

by Nazerine



Category: Dragon Ball
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - Cyberpunk, Boys Kissing, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-01
Updated: 2020-05-01
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:00:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23945812
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nazerine/pseuds/Nazerine
Summary: Set in a dystopian Spaceport AU where Vegeta is a grumpy restaurant owner trying to revive a failing business when a certain spunky busboy comes along to save the night. For Kakavege week ficswap.
Relationships: Son Goku/Vegeta (Dragon Ball)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 34





	Challenger

The newest addition to Restaurant Plant was flaunting himself again. Toned body bent smoothly at the waist as his muscular arms scooped up the piles of messy plates from the table without a hitch. Vegeta couldn’t help but stare like a deer caught in the headlights from the pass, watching as a tongue worked slightly from the corner of the younger Saiyan’s mouth, tracing along with his movements as the plates piled higher and higher. Damn, he was good. No, he was better than good. Goku, that was what he had introduced himself as in his interview, but it wasn’t anything like the other Saiyan names he’d heard. It was foreign, just like the ridiculous clothing he brought into work as his chosen uniform. At first sight of the damn apron, Vegeta had almost gone completely feral but after witnessing the extra revenue it brought in from wandering customer eyes, the surly business owner decided instead to keep quiet and count his money.

Vegeta had inherited his father’s restaurant after he went missing in action, and with it, the grandiose debt that had been attached. Once considered the best bistro in the whole of the Northern Galactic Spaceport, the restaurant had fallen on hard times ever since the Planet Trade Organisation had muscled in on his family’s hard earned money. They always just seemed to know when to turn up, forcing Vegeta to hand over a ‘subsidy’ - as they had so infuriatingly called it - just when it seemed like business had picked up.

He could hardly pay rent, and as of late, the goons were getting more pushy with their demands. Anyone from the outside looking in would have guessed the organisation to simply be business, but beneath the surface, Vegeta knew their dirty tactics and blackmail well. The increasing pressure had resulted in him being harder on his staff, demanding longer hours with less pay, insulting them at the smallest mistake and almost impossible time crunches. Some had walked out, some had tried to fight him without much success, and others had been fired, reduced to tears as they stormed out and into the cluttered trash-filled alleyways.

So when his staff went the extra mile without needing to be asked, Vegeta felt satisfied. Satisfied because he didn’t need to do anything; they just did it for him. But this? This was nonsense, his eyes falling upon the younger Saiyan’s backside where the apron hung teasingly over his exposed hips. Fucking Goku hardly wore any clothes at all, all lean muscle, spunk and confidence that made the business owner want to chew on his soiled dishrag. He both loved and hated the other for it. Loved it - because it brought him more guests and revenue than his food ever had in years. Hated it - because his food for once wasn’t the star of the show and this...this fucking upstart was showing off! Running around the place scantily clad in his blasted hoverboots without even tripping or making a fool of himself once!

Vegeta had tried to bring him down like the others, had shouted derogatory terms and spite at the kid when he came to ask for more shifts but Goku had hardly nudged, merely shrugging off the venomous words as if he couldn’t give a care in the whole damn galaxy. It didn’t help that he was fucking gorgeous, being all dark and tall with broad shoulders that made Vegeta feel insecure about his own, shorter stature. And those eyes, those fucking eyes that twinkled wide like the nebular of the brightest interstellar colonies that felt like so close to his own, but so much more alive. His had lost their spark years ago. Hordes of customers, visitors from the outer reaches of the cosmos had tried to make a move on Goku, slipping notes, battering eyelashes and brazen flirts of courtship in an attempt to reach him but like the insults, Goku hardly paid attention, happily waving them off and taking their tips without so much as a wink. It only made Vegeta that much more envious. How could his food, once prized amongst the stars as first-class be secondary to this...this... _scumbag_!

He hated it, and so he made Goku work harder. Forcing him to take on more tables, more demeaning cleaning duties in hopes of wearing his pride down. Instead, Vegeta had learned he had underestimated his employee’s enthusiasm because the more Vegeta worked him, the more eager Goku was to please. And please he did, skating around in his hover boots with his stupid apron barely covering him, tail hanging loose as a mountainous pile of plates was deposited neatly in the sink without any hassle. A cheer erupted from the dining room, pleased and enthralled at the display of strength and control and Vegeta huffed a strangled growl, ripping the cloth from off his head that had kept his hair tied down and throwing it to the floor. He needed a smoke. No, he needed five.

Vegeta went out into the back alley, kicking away the stray creatures that called the dumpsters home as he took out his tenth cigarette for the evening and coughed a wheeze, running a hand through the black spikes at the back of his head as he set it alight with a flick of his fingers. “Oh, Vegeta…” _Oh... no_. Vegeta knew that voice. That cold, callous tone that he had seldom heard before. He felt his heart drop in his chest like dead weight as he turned, slowly, dreading as the piercing red irises of Frieza came to fall upon him.

The Emperor, that was what they called him. The Planet Trade Organisation, his empire. A syndicate of crime built on manipulation and exploitation that masked itself as an honest front of fair-trade deals and sourcing intergalactic materials They’d squandered thousands of businesses out of their money and much more. Secrets that Vegeta had chosen to keep and for good reason. That sort of knowledge was what had people get dead. It was what had people go missing. Just like his father.

Vegeta could do little except stand there, petrified, feet stuck to the mouldy concrete as the white lizard and his posse of henchmen descended slowly upon him, being mindful to avoid the rubbish and refuse that littered the place. “Where is it, Vegeta?” The cigarette was burning his lips, hardly touched as it disintegrated to ash as his mind spun fruitlessly in circles. Frieza was put off, annoyed about something but he couldn’t remember about what exactly he was meant to do.

“...Sorry?” It was all he could think to say as the Emperor inched forward, small steps that echoed the heeled tips of his boots off the walls of the alley like thunderclaps. Each clack made the Saiyan’s hairs stand on end, all the way up his exposed forearms and underneath his sleeveless shirt.

Frieza laughed but he didn’t open his mouth, more like echoed in his throat. It was chilling, otherworldly, like the tolling bells of death or the blistering winds of winter. Vegeta could feel himself shrink despite the Emperor’s smaller frame, mouth agape in shock as Frieza came to stand before him and eyed him cryptically like he was assessing a piece of equipment. “Oh, Vegeta. I should have known you would rebel against me eventually. How long has it been since you paid your fees?” What was he talking about?

“What?” Vegeta blinked himself out of the catatonic state the Emperor’s presence had put him in, realising the henchmen had all but boxed him in; surrounded. “What do you mean? I...I-I’ve paid my subsidies!” Vegeta’s tone was full of desperation, the Saiyan falling to his knees and feeling the grit soak through his jeans. Frieza laughed again, that same hollow sound that sent a chill down his spine.

“Oh? So you did. But I wasn’t talking about that, was I?” Vegeta’s eyes widened then and he recalled the increase in his business’ success ever since Kaka- no, Goku started working there. The amount of tips Goku had actually given him that he had hoarded and put away for a rainy day. To get out of this damn hellhole. He’d made thousands of credits, all because he vetted on thinking Frieza wouldn’t know, wouldn’t learn about them. He should have known better...

A cruel, open laugh spilled from the Emperor’s lips as the dawning of his realisation came crashing down upon him. Of course the Emperor wanted a cut of the action! He should have said something! “W-Wait!” Vegeta held his hands up defensively in front of himself as the henchmen cracked their knuckles and leered threateningly. “I’ll...I’ll give you what I’ve made! I’ll make up for it, I swear!”

“Oh? Will you now?...” The Emperor was inspecting his nails, appearing disinterested. “No, I don’t think so. What you’ll do instead is give me everything you’ve made, including your staff’s wages. Oh, and your own savings for the entire trimester. And then... you’ll be punished how I see fit so that you’ll never think to betray me again. Yes, I think that’ll do quite nicely.”

“What do you think you’re doing!?” Oh no. Oh. Fucking. _God._ _No._ Just when he thought it was bad, it just had to get worse. Vegeta turned his head to find Goku standing there in his fucking apron and lewd uniform, glaring the Emperor down with so much hardness in his eyes that it was actually startling. Vegeta had never seen such anger on the younger Saiyan’s face before. It almost looked wrong to be there.

“And what is _this_?” Frieza asked in a disgusted tone, like he’d just stepped in shit as he glared back in turn at the half-naked Saiyan. "Is this your new lapdog?"

The henchmen surrounding Vegeta turned to look at Goku, some licking their lips at the suggestive form but Goku having none of it stepped forward in challenge, his own presence suddenly overriding the area. “You stop this right now!” Goku yelled, his voice loud and resolute and without waver. Vegeta could only gawk stupidly, horrified, useless. He was going to get them killed. He was going to get them both _killed_!

He was about to tell Goku to shut up and mind his own business but it was over before he could even get a word out. In an explosion of movement, Goku had shot forward on his fucking hoverboots and beat the living snot out of the Emperor’s guards, fists ramming through stomachs and knees bludgeoning through bone. Vegeta could only sit there, spectating in slow motion as the guards went crumbling one by one, beaten into impractical mounds of meat by primal, raw energy.

So those muscles weren’t just for show, Vegeta wondered to himself as, wrapping into unconsciousness, the guards fell like the towers of Babel, leaving only Goku, Vegeta and Frieza remaining. The Emperor looked positively pale, the purple undertone of his skin draining like he’d just seen a ghost as he stepped back, the neatness of his suit now suddenly crumpled and uneven.

“You’ll leave Vegeta alone,” Goku growled, fists clenched and bloodied from where he’d beaten Frieza’s men so hard their skulls had fractured. “You’ll leave him alone and you’ll never take tithes or subsidies or whatever you want to call it from his business ever again. Do you understand me?!” It was like Goku had been consumed by fire, Vegeta left sitting there, swallowed under by the display of... _power_ suddenly coming from the younger Saiyan’s form. The teasing apron and his impractical choice of outfit had been completely forgotten in that moment. There, before him with no doubt, was the warrior of legend. The one his Father had spoken about. The one that came about once every hundred years. The one that hundreds of years had passed and yet still had never been seen before until now.

Frieza’s eyes betrayed his fear, the red irises shrinking to pinpricks as he backpedalled in the wake of Goku’s rising storm. “Do you understand!? You'll never do business here again!!” Goku roared, his aura flaring and with a hiss of panic, Frieza turned, the Emperor of the greatest crime syndicate to haunt the North Galaxy, now running for his life.

Vegeta, stupefied and floored, watched as Frieza’s shaken form vanished into the rising steam and shadowed paths. Slowly, very slowly he turned to look back at Goku, glancing as the anger that boiled in his eyes simmered down and turning to look back at Vegeta, quietened down into those two familiar dark sparkling streams. Smiling softly, Goku offered a hand out for Vegeta to grab but Vegeta refused, instead pulling himself to his own feet and dusting off the muck that clung to his pants.

“You shouldn’t have done that…” Vegeta murmured quietly, gently, refusing to meet the other’s gaze fully as he cleaned. “He’ll be back. With more guards and better armaments. He’ll probably bring weapons and my ki is pale at best-” “Let them.” Goku replied, his tone confident and full of certainty. It forced Vegeta to look up at him and seeing him normal again, but with more steel than his usual self, it made something in the owner’s stomach twist as well as his heart.

“You can’t, Goku. I can’t risk you--” It was like before, things moving too fast for him to contemplate. He’d lost his ability to control ki years ago, thrown away when depression and responsibility seized his will to fight, condemned to run a dying legacy of a business. Now, it blinked at him, the hidden reserves of energy parting faintly as he saw for the briefest moments a smile and suddenly, Goku’s lips were on his own. His eyes widened as the younger Saiyan pressed into him, kissing away his doubts and his confusion and his fears. Vegeta, surprised in himself opened his mouth, welcoming him in as a gratifying moan surfaced through his nose.

All the jealousy, all the spite he had held for his employee washed away in that singular moment, fingers burying themselves in Goku’s wild tangle of hair as they kissed and kissed, swaying faintly as they clung onto one another. It was only when Vegeta felt the urge of his brain questioning what he was doing that he decided to part, gasping softly as Goku’s tongue tried to chase after him.

Vegeta blushed and glared, his face a furious crimson as he yanked on Goku’s hair, pulling down on it painfully. It caused Goku to yelp faintly, his knees bowing as he was forced down to Vegeta’s height.

“What are you doing, idiot?! I’m your employer! I own you! You can’t just-just...go kissing me whenever you feel like it!”

“You didn’t seem so against it just a few moments ago,” Goku protested, but even through the sign of submission he remained determined, his eyelids lowering suggestively…? What? “Besides, I think you’re pretty cute when you blush, Vegeta... You’d think you’d take a hint by now with all the times I’ve worn this thing in front of ya. You don’t think I haven’t noticed you checking me out?”

“Wh...What?!?!” Vegeta felt like he was about to explode. No, he was dying. He was certainly dying. He could feel his soul leaving his body as his whole body turned red in embarrassment, from the points of his toes to the roots of his scalp. Vegeta’s fists were shaking, curled in Goku’s hair as Goku all but laughed in his face and moving in closer, took advantage of his stunned state.

Strong, warm, naked arms wrapped around him, pulling him close as Vegeta all but muffled complaints against Goku’s chest, face pressed into the younger Saiyan’s cleavage as he was urged into an embrace. He could barely fathom the sigh against his hairline as Goku rest his head atop his own, too caught up at being caught out. “You don’t need to worry about me. Just do what you normally do and I’ll make sure you’ll succeed. Hey! Maybe you might even get enough money to get off this spaceport, huh?”

Goku leaned down and caressed his cheek, the hands that had just bludgeoned Frieza’s men to near-death now startlingly so gentle. Vegeta blinked, pulled out of his embarrassed stupor and clenching his jaw, he snarled despite still not trying to make any effort to pull himself away. “Moron. You’re a complete moron, you know that?!” It was all he could think to say with everything falling to pieces around him. His pride, his secret infatuation with Goku, his deals with Frieza, having the legendary warrior now manifest in the form of this...this..imbecile! He huffed, cheeks aflame and grabbed Goku's hand, pulling it away from his face and tugging them both away, back toward the restaurant. “Come on, if you’re going to do that sort of thing, don’t do it out here. I don’t want...people looking.”

The smile on the younger Saiyan’s face spelled anything but innocent as he followed obediently, letting Vegeta lead him back inside and into the office he normally kept for private meetings. Maybe having an overzealous busboy wasn’t so bad, especially when they looked so good kicking ass.

**Author's Note:**

> Hi and welcome to my crack!fic. I was randomly assigned to write this so I thought I'd step out of my comfort zone and try something weird. Plus don't get to see a lot of cyberpunk AUs so thought I'd throw that in too. Plus I think I can safely say a lot of is want to see Goku fight in a skimpy outfit. Anyway, thanks for reading and as usual, kudos if you enjoyed it.


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